The Champion’s Dawn

The flickering torchlight in the council chamber cast long, twisting shadows against the stone walls, lending the room a solemn, almost oppressive air. The Virellion estate, still steeped in the quiet after the evening's dinner, now served as the backdrop for a gathering far more serious. The high ceiling was adorned with intricate carvings, each one a testament to centuries of noble history. The only sound that filled the chamber was the low murmur of voices, growing more intense as the discussions continued.

At the head of a grand oak table sat Lord Daelric Virellion, his piercing eyes sweeping across the gathered nobles. His posture was rigid, commanding, but there was a certain tension in his shoulders—a quiet anticipation. Lady Virellia sat beside him, her elegant presence softened by concern. Their eyes shifted to Varion Ignar, who stood apart from the others, his shoulders stooped as though weighed down by the heavy burden of the day. He had not yet spoken since entering the room, his eyes clouded by a storm of thoughts that still churned within him.

Finally, it was Lady Virellia who broke the silence, her voice cutting through the thick air.

"Varion," she said, her tone measured yet laced with curiosity, "what transpired between you and the Emperor? We've heard whispers, but nothing concrete. We need to know what we face."

The room grew still as all eyes turned to Varion, who stood at the edge of the table, his hand resting lightly on the polished wood. He was silent for a moment, and for the first time in many years, there was no fire in his gaze. Instead, it was a dull ember, barely flickering. He shifted his weight, and then, with a heavy exhale, he began to speak.

"The Emperor…" Varion's voice was low, measured. "Malrik Vortan. His intentions are as calculated as ever. He told us... he told me something I never expected to hear."

The room leaned in as Varion's voice took on a more intense edge, each word dripping with the gravity of what he was about to reveal.

"The boy—Klaus Aetherion… he has been chosen."

A pause followed, the weight of his words sinking deep into the hearts of those present. It was Lady Virellia who spoke first, her words laced with disbelief.

"Chosen? Chosen for what, exactly? What could a mere child—"

"He's been chosen as the Champion of Earth," Varion interrupted, his words cutting like a knife through the murmur of confusion that rose around the table.

At the mention of Klaus's name and the title of "Champion," the entire room went deathly silent. The air seemed to thicken as the implications of Varion's revelation settled over them like a storm cloud.

Daelric's voice broke the silence, sharp and commanding, as if trying to pierce through the fog of confusion. "What do you mean, chosen? By who? The Emperor can't simply... decide such a thing without—"

"Without knowing the consequences?" Varion finished, his voice bitter. "I thought the same, Daelric. But no. He has chosen Klaus Aetherion to be the earth's last line of defense. The boy's power… it's unlike anything we've seen. His abilities, his very presence—it's as though the storm itself resides in him."

Lady Virellia raised an eyebrow, her gaze narrowing. "I've seen the footage from the estate ," she said coldly. "What he did to the Pyreborn... and how he moved when the lightning overtook him… it wasn't human. That wasn't just rage—it was instinct, precision. That was execution. The boy didn't fight like someone learning. He fought like someone born to end things."

Her words carried a heavy weight—she wasn't speaking from speculation. She had seen it. The flickering projections, the raw storm slicing through an elite battalion as if they were nothing. She had watched him tear through fire with wind and lightning, his movements a blur of violence and intent. And she hadn't slept well since.

Varion's gaze shifted downward, as though the weight of the Emperor's words still pressed down on him. "It means that Earth's fate is tied to him. The Emperor believes the Monarchs are no longer a threat. He said that we… we would be the ones to teach him how to wield his power, to harness it."

A long, uncomfortable silence followed. No one spoke for several moments, each person lost in their thoughts as they processed what they had just heard. The tension in the room was palpable, as if the walls themselves were closing in.

Finally, it was Daelric who broke the silence. His voice was low, steady, but there was an undeniable edge to it.

"And what of us, Varion?" he asked, his eyes cold. "What do you think this means for us? The Emperor has chosen this boy… as Earth's Champion. Does that mean we're to bend our knees to him? To this… child who has already declared war on us?"

Varion's fists clenched at his sides, a flicker of fire returning to his eyes. "It means that the Monarchs will have to watch him closely. Malrik Vortan didn't choose him lightly. This boy… Klaus Aetherion is something else. And the Emperor knows it. He believes that with him, Earth has a chance against the forces that are coming."

Lady Virellia's tone grew sharper. "The footage was blurred by lightning and wind—but you could feel it. That raw presence. No Crowned Son, no heir, no Monarch has ever carried that weight in their aura. That boy doesn't just fight. He declares extinction."

The room went still again. There was a sense of finality in her words, an unmistakable aura that clung to every syllable. Her words were charged, filled with the electric hum of a storm yet to break.

"Do you understand what this means?" Varion continued, his voice growing darker. "He's been chosen. And he has already declared war against us. He's already struck down the Pyreborn Execrants.He fought toe-to-toe with Varion.He's not afraid of us. He's not afraid of anyone."

Daelric leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the table. His expression was unreadable, but the weight of his thoughts was heavy in the air. "So what now? Do we wait for him to come for us, to challenge us in the name of Earth's survival? Or do we take the fight to him before it's too late?"

Varion's eyes darkened, his voice low and dangerous. "We prepare. We watch. But make no mistake—we do not underestimate him. Klaus Aetherion is a storm. And when he comes for us, he will come with the fury of the skies themselves."

Earth's fate had shifted on a single word: Champion.—Klaus Aetherion had set his path, and it was a path that would lead him to the very heart of their empire.

And there would be no turning back.